


afterparty

by tripletriple



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Anal Sex, Angst, Come Eating, Fluff, I'm back, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Riding, hoo boy, lots of banter and bickering as expected, softest of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripletriple/pseuds/tripletriple
Summary: “You did enough,” Javier says, in between Yuzuru pulling back for breath and crushing lips against his again. “More than enough,” he tells him, as he’s pushed onto the bed, straddled, as his hands find thick thighs to rub into and ground him. “Yuzu, youwon."(Yuzuru and Javier collect their thoughts after medaling. Together.)





	afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> been a long time, ao3.
> 
> javier seems determined to confuse me personally with the ever-changing status of his (semi)retirement these past couple days but this was written under the assumption that he's retiring from comp and going pro.
> 
> i can't believe ladies hasn't even happened yet and that the FD is tomorrow night. i am... so tired. the men's event winded me. here is how i deal.
> 
> no warnings? let me know if i need any, thank you!
> 
> please leave kudos and comments if you enjoy!
> 
> flutzes.tumblr.com is where i may be reached, otherwise

Every day of the Olympics is, by definition, a good day.

But today was one of the best.

And most bittersweet.

Javier can’t quite put his finger on it but Yuzuru is looking especially good this evening, freshly showered, skin dewy and glowing, big dumb grin plastered to his face. Javier wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Come here, Olympic Champion,” he calls from in front of the window, enjoying the way Yuzuru flushes as he looks up from the towel he’s using to dry his hair. He steps closer anyway; Javier wraps his arms around him, breathes deeply, sighs out happily. Enjoys the moment, the first private one they’ve really had to revel in what’s happened.

“I was already the champion before today,” Yuzuru mumbles against his shoulder.

Javier takes it in stride, smiles. He leans down to kiss Yuzuru’s jaw, breathing in his scent, the lovely clean smell of soap and honey. “Yeah, but you did it again,” he points out, “that’s how incredible you are.”

He can feel the way Yuzuru shivers, the way his shoulders relax in response to him. God, he loves this. He’d have given up a thousand podiums for this, but Yuzuru never would expect him to. He never wanted him to.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Yuzuru admits, as Javier’s fingertips sneak under the hem of his paperthin t-shirt. Hot skin, firm muscle. The barely-there ridges of the tattoo Yuzu has on his ribcage; a secret kept close to his heart. A long night, a mistake, but then it turned out to be more than that, the morning after. Javier wouldn’t have found it if he hadn’t already known it was there.

“It’s not,” he tells Yuzuru. “This is forever. Two-time Olympic gold medalist.” His voice is low and serious; he can feel the shake of tears at the back of his throat. He’s done so much crying today, but he’s so proud of Yuzuru. So proud of both of them.

Yuzuru stares at him for a minute. It’s the same intensity in his eyes that burns out on the ice, for everything Yuzu skates with is honest. He is strong because of it. He fights, every time, because of what’s inside of him. Javier knows Yuzuru loves him; they don’t say it, but maybe they will, now. Even if they do, Yuzuru’s first love will always be skating, and Javier understands. He’s left so much of himself out there over the years that it’d be wrong to fault him for it. Who he is was built on blades, on footwork and gliding and flying. He deals with every emotion with his skates on, and Javier can tell, right now, that Yuzu is battling a persistent voice within him that’s telling him to lace them up again and run away. But he can also see the moment when Yuzuru agrees to disagree with himself, the heat and determination in his eyes when he surges up to kiss him. Maybe sometimes it’s okay to leave it, Javier thinks; maybe sometimes it’s enough.

“You did enough,” he says, in between Yuzuru pulling back for breath and crushing lips against his again. “More than enough,” he tells him, as he’s pushed onto the bed, straddled, as his hands find thick thighs to rub into and ground him. “Yuzu, you  _ won,”  _ falling in a rush from his parted lips as Yuzuru nips along his collarbone, soothing each bite with a soft tongue. Yuzuru isn’t good at this, is what he says all the time. He maintains that he’s shy in bed, that he’s embarrassed that Javier’s had more experience. But Javier loves his messy kisses and ungraceful rutting and the way he can feel him burning hot for him when he curls his fingers around Yuzuru’s waist. Yuzuru can be erotic in the most unbridled way; what he doesn’t realize is his natural, ever-present passion and sensitivity are an advantage. Javier slides his palm down Yuzuru’s spine and feels his shudder, his body’s honesty and responsiveness.

Yuzuru lets himself go soft, lets himself be rolled onto his back. Javier returns the attention he gave him, rougher, the way he knows Yuzuru prefers. He yanks the stretched-out collar of Yuzuru’s loose, boxy tee down and sucks bruises against his neck, and Yuzuru makes the prettiest noises for it. He keens for it. Yuzuru is beautiful always, and Javier tells him so, sliding his hands over either of his strong hips.

There’s a pause, a moment where they both pull away to take each other in. Yuzuru’s eyes are huge, dilated. All for him. _ “Petit fleur,”  _ Javier breathes, tracing those same words in ink on Yuzuru’s side again, “go put your medal back on.”

Yuzuru blushes so easy, so bright. Javier draws his fingertips down over the taut lines of his stomach, along the dips made by his muscles, and Yuzu’s back arches into his touch. Javier pushes his shirt up higher, slips his hands over Yuzuru’s chest, letting the rough pads of his fingers ghost over his nipples. He doesn’t miss the way Yuzuru’s breathing picks up; he takes advantage of that, leans down to take one dusky nipple between his lips and suck, lick, bite. Yuzuru’s hand flies to his head, tugging at his hair as he whines. “Javi,” he pines softly, his free hand reaching around to smack hard at Javier’s ass. Javier smiles and lets him go, sitting back to survey Yuzu below him.

Yuzuru gives him a glare. “You say you want one thing and do another,” he accuses.

“Sorry,” Javier says, although he’s really not. He’s still rolling that nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t resist you. You’re really hot.”

Yuzuru squints as he wiggles out from underneath him. Javier licks his lips at the shimmy he does to get out of his sweatpants, eyeing him up and down. Yuzu leaves his t-shirt on for now, padding to his hotel room’s dresser and coming back with the medal, its bright blue neck strap wrapped around his wrist. He stands in front of the bed, between Javier’s legs, and turns it over in his hand. Javier holds him at the hips, under his shirt and above the waistband of his black briefs, humming idly. “It’s heavier than mine,” he remarks, smirking when Yuzuru blinks at him, questioning.

Javier slips his hand into Yuzuru’s; he takes the medal from him, presses it to Yuzuru’s chest.

“Mm, not quite,” he muses. Yuzuru giggles as Javier pushes his top up again, tossing it away, and Javier rests the medal over his heart again. “Much better,” he says, studying the contrast of shining gold against the warm tone of Yuzuru’s skin. It’s perfect, like it was made for him. Probably it was.

“Javi,” Yuzuru says, pout in full force like he’s about to start whining.

“Shhh,” Javier says, letting the medal come with him as he cups the back of Yuzuru’s neck, leaning up for a quick, quiet, sweet kiss. Yuzuru darts his tongue past Javier’s lips as his hands come to rest at his shoulders, as he kneels up on the bed over Javier’s thighs. He loves the way Yuzuru feels against him, always has; he’s not as featherweight as he looks, all strength, all muscle, solid. Real. He’s the most real thing Javier’s held all day, all week; the bronze medal lying on the dresser just beside where Yuzuru’s was, that certainly isn’t real. When Javier picks it up it feels illusory, like it’ll melt and slip through his fingers, or else sprout wings and fly away.

Yuzuru… seems to have no such issue.  When Javier hangs his around his neck his shoulders roll and straighten. “Champion,” he says again, quietly, nearly to himself. His hands come to rest on Yuzu’s slim waist; Yuzuru reaches down to lace the fingers of both hands with Javier’s, and he leans down, kisses him breathless, as he starts a slow rock of his hips. They’re not in quite the right position to grind fully, and he can feel the beginnings of frustration as arousal stirs in his gut, but Javier is more than content to make out. He lets himself sink into the kiss, pulls his hands down lower to get a couple handfuls of Yuzuru’s ass. Detached, Yuzuru’s own hands slide up Javier’s chest to fist in his hair and guide his head where he wants him.  _ Shy, _ Javier thinks, amused.

“Who’s on top?” Yuzuru rests his forehead against Javier’s, hips still twitching back and forth.

Javier smirks. “Obviously you,” he says.

Yuzuru narrows his eyes at him. “You think I don’t catch your puns,” Yuzuru tells him, “but Mirai and Jason always tell me when you make one and I get just as mad at you as them.” He tosses his own hair out of his eyes. “Is that really what you want?”

“Is it what you want?” Javier says. This is dangerous territory, usually; they’re liable to go back and forth like this forever. But Yuzuru seems to consider it, biting his lip, the dusting of a blush again apparent over the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he says finally, pushing Javier back against the bed again. “Want you begging for me.” His cheeks color ever deeper as he speaks, and he dives down to kiss him again to hide it.

“Damn,” Javier says, after he stops nearly choking on Yuzuru’s tongue. Yuzuru buries his face in Javier’s neck, flutters tiny, soft kisses along his neck and collarbone, down the center of his chest. “Fuck, Yuzuru,” he says, as his sweater is pushed up. Yuzuru sighs against his stomach, and flicks his tongue just below his navel; Javier shakes, feeling all his blood rush south to meet Yuzu where he now nibbles along his hipbone.

“C’mon, baby,” Javier urges, sliding his palm over the back of Yuzuru’s head. It seems to encourage him; he pushes Javier’s sweats down, even as he takes a bit of his skin between his teeth and bites more viciously. He lets him go just as Javier starts squirming, and then Yuzuru lets his tongue slide, soft, along the underside of Javier’s cock, staring up at him as if it’s a challenge. 

Javier’s fingers curl into Yuzuru’s hair, nails on his scalp as he wraps his lips around the head and starts to suck lightly; his eyes fall shut, happy, content, and Javier’s head spins with it, with the knowledge that someone so incredible, so wonderful, would make the choice to be here with him now.

Yuzuru’s medal is warm against Javier’s thigh, pressed between their shared body heat. Javier pets at his hair, splays his hand out along Yuzuru’s shoulders; he distracts himself with everything he can until the pressure builds too high and he can feel the familiar, tempting pull in his gut, the need and want all pooled together and threatening to spill. “Yuzu,” he warns, gasping, fighting his own body; he practically growls when Yuzuru draws back completely only to wrap his hand around his dick and give him a few slow strokes. He has to tamp the pleasure down, going from the soft coaxing of Yuzuru’s tongue and lips to the rough, sudden friction of his palm. Yuzuru uses his distraction and his lifted, chasing hips as an opportunity to pull his pants off all the way.

“Fuck, you are evil,” Javier says, feeling rather overheated now in just his sweater. Yuzuru just smiles and kisses the tip of his cock. Then he twists his wrist, and Javier cries out. “Yuzu,” he whines, “please, more.”

“There you go.” Yuzuru reaches up beneath his pillows and drops a small bottle beside him on the bed. “You do listen,” he praises.

Javier tries his damndest not to blush. “You already had that under the hotel pillow?” he accuses instead.

Yuzuru just grins wider. “I had to relax before the short.” He rests his head on Javier’s hip and walks his fingers over Javier’s thigh. “I thought about you,” he says lowly, voice vibrating against Javier’s skin. Javier lets his legs fall open, and Yuzuru kisses his inner thigh, flutters his eyelashes against his skin. “Thought about you all over me,” Yuzuru continues, “your smell, your hands.” He splays his long, pretty fingers on Javier’s belly, and Javier comes to hold them, squeezing his palms. Yuzuru, propped up on his elbows, stares at him from down the bed.

“Thought about you cheering for me,” Yuzuru says, “I cheered so hard for you. I know how much this means to you.”

Javier studies him, all raw, open honesty, the gold medal shining around his neck. Yuzuru’s soft in the growing shadows of the evening, their floor too high up to bother shutting the blinds. Evening is almost magic on him; Javier knows he isn’t ready to retire with him, but he lets himself think about it, think about being home at night with this in his arms. Yuzuru is right; the medal is a lot. It’s a lot to be proud of, a lot to bask in, a lot to take in. But it’s complicated. It was hard-fought and hard-won; Yuzu is none of that, so easy, such a given. Javier knows Yuzuru’s own medals bring him the same confusion, though this time around he feels more deserving. But he’s never seen Yuzuru hesitate when it came to this. He’s never seen him overthink it, never sensed him truly pulling away. Yuzuru fights his instincts for him, and Javier is more than grateful; or maybe, at this point, the instinct has changed. Maybe it just takes a moment for Yuzuru to remember that he can let his guard down. Maybe Yuzuru comes home to him. Maybe one day he will, for real.

“Turn over?” Yuzuru says, barely a movement of his lips. He presses them to the backs of each of Javier’s hands in turn; Javi complies, loathe to disobey him. Whatever Yuzuru decides he wants, he gets. That’s sort of the way the world works.

Yuzuru climbs over him after a moment, settles on his thighs. Javier can feel that he’s taken off his underwear; the heat of skin on skin, the heady scent of arousal thicker and heavier in the air. But Yuzuru builds to it, starts slow. He slides his hands up under Javier’s sweater and presses the heels into the small of his back. He always knows just where Javier is tense, based on his mood; having the same chiropractor will do that. Javier is nothing but grateful. He folds his arms underneath his chin and rests there, letting his eyes slip shut, letting himself drift, enjoying the way Yuzuru’s strong hands work to loosen him up.

His fingertips are light as a feather when they eventually trace the curve of Javier’s ass. “Javi?” Yuzu says, in that tone of voice that says  _ unsure.  _ Javier hums in response, encouragement, unwilling to fully rouse himself from how relaxed he is.

“Is it okay if I changed my mind?” he asks, and Javier smiles, his eyes still closed. He shuffles a bit to turn over, and Yuzuru raises up enough to let him go, sitting back down upon him the moment he’s flipped. “You look pretty,” Yuzuru says, his face flushed, his cock hard and curved up against his hip. Javier revels at the irony. Yuzuru looks so good he feels himself getting dizzy.

“C’mere,” Javier says again. Yuzuru leans down to kiss him, pressing their chests together, the barrier of Javier’s sweater scratchy and infuriating. Yuzuru twists his fists into it as Javi nips his bottom lip; their hips move together, easy motion against one another, picking up speed as it gets wetter, the drip of pre growing steady as the heat between them intensifies. Yuzuru pulls back to find the lube again and immediately returns after pouring a liberal amount over his own fingers, reaching back with one hand to get himself prepped. He arches his back to push his ass up, and Javier’s cock slides against his stomach instead, the skin so smooth and warm. He kisses at Yuzuru’s neck, feels his hair tickle his cheek, steals the little moans and whimpers right from Yuzuru’s tongue.

“You’re gonna… mark me up for the gala,” Yuzuru protests, though he’s not terribly convincing when he’s two or three fingers deep inside himself and drooling for it. Javier smiles.

“It’ll be really satisfying, being able to see who you belong to even when I’m back in Madrid,” he coos, laying it on thick, and Yuzuru reacts accordingly, gasping, rising up to throw his hair back. God, he looks good, sweat shining on his shoulders and chest, nipples and cock hard and with his lean, tight body on display. Javier laughs at him a little, reaches back with both hands to grip his ass, smack it lightly.

“Javi,” Yuzuru moans, swinging his hips back and forth, pushing back into his hands, “now, put it in, please, want it…”

Javier groans. “You sure?” he says, worried over how well-prepped they are. His dick is begging for the tight heat he knows is on offer, but he’s petrified of hurting Yuzu.

Yuzuru’s eyes flash, fiery, impatient. He covers Javier’s hands with his own again, guiding them to his sides, and he rises up on his knees and reaches behind himself, taking his dick in hand and sliding it along the cleft of his ass. Javi bares his neck and lets his lips part, holds on tight to Yuzuru’s slim waist as he slips in, feeling the rhythmic pulse in the depths of him as he adjusts. Javier finds it amazing, sex; he’s not obsessed with it by any means, but it’s… fascinating to him. He thinks it’s genuinely beautiful that Yuzuru opens like this for him, that he wants him this close and this deep. Yuzuru is so sexy, and he doesn’t think of himself that way but Javier sees it all the way through him, coursing through his blood, in the unselfconscious way he bares all and lets himself feel everything. 

By the time he’s fully seated Yuzuru is shaking with exertion; Javier can feel the way he vibrates, anticipation and excitement making him tightly-wound, ready to unfurl. Javier gives an experimental kick of his hips and Yuzuru’s face goes slack, and he moans, loud and deep, collapses on Javier’s chest. “Yeah?” Javier says, his voice low in Yuzuru’s ear, nipping at the lobe. Yuzuru only gasps, trying to catch his breath, tightening around Javier like a vice when he’s buried as deep as he can go. Javier pulls back again, as far as he can without slipping out, and rocks slowly back in, feeling every ridge and muscle inside of Yuzuru’s body. He wants to learn more about him, inside and out; he’s always rabid for intel, always studying everything that makes Yuzuru come apart, all the things that piece him together. He’s an enigma but only until the time is taken to bring him out of his shell, make him comfortable. He seems to get rather comfortable now, as Javier feels his body relax and truly accept him, feels him melt down into a puddle on top of him; he heats up and lets go, moaning softly into Javier’s neck, nuzzling his chin and mouthing wetly along his chest, as Javier builds up into a steady, solid pattern of thrusts. 

Javier licks over a bruise he’d left earlier; Yuzuru whimpers, spine straight where Javier’s palm rests at the small of his back. “Lemme see you,” he whispers, blowing soft, affectionate breath into Yuzuru’s hair. “Let me see that medal around your neck.”

With great effort, Yuzuru sits up, leans back, and Javier traces the severe cut of each of his clavicles, sliding his fingers down the center of his chest to come to rest with his palm just to the side of that medal, shimmering with the last dregs of outside light. He commits this to memory; Yuzuru on top of him, the fingers of one hand curled hard into Javier's leg behind him, rocking his hips to match Javier’s rhythm, skin shining and hair mussed and eyes cinched shut with pleasure, little mouth parted and pursed. His thighs and stomach flex, his own precome glistening on his belly; it’s on Javier’s sweater, too, from when they were pressed so close together. The little bit of space lets them breathe, lets Javier work a little harder, and he switches up his grip, holds tight to Yuzuru’s waist and flips them over yet again, practically slamming Yuzuru down onto the bed on his back, head pointed up toward the pillows.

Yuzuru’s eyes fly open. He regards Javier with a look of shock, pupils wide; Javier smiles sheepishly, leans down to kiss along the tops of his cheeks, chase the ever-present flush of pink there.

“You don’t have to impress me with your brute strength,” Yuzuru says once he collects himself, though he seems rather preoccupied with Javier’s bicep, licking his lips as he blatantly stares. Javier laughs, joyously, tremendously happy through to his core; he’s feeling everything he’d kept in check all day, all the energy, nerves, pride, all crashing in on him at once. He buzzes with it, keeps laughing even when Yuzuru slings a long leg up over his shoulder and beckons him down to the bed, selfishly grabbing a fistful of Javier’s curls and kissing the air from his lungs with force. In this position, it pushes Yuzu’s leg up high, past his own head, and Javier catches his breath for long enough to marvel at it.

“That fucking Biellmann,” Javier growls, wrapping his hand around Yuzuru’s ankle, caressing the soft, smooth skin. “You’re gonna end up with back problems.”

“Oh, please, don’t stop with the dirty talk,” Yuzuru snarks, managing to look disgruntled while actively being fucked. Javier always knew he was a firecracker. 

But he can fight fire with fire. “I could talk like that, if you wanted me to,” he says as he drops down to his elbows, bracketing Yuzuru’s head. “I could tell you how I wanted to slam you against a wall after I skated today. Kept thinking about how mad you’d be if I ripped the Seimei costume off you. I swear it’d be worth it.” He feels the way Yuzuru’s body pulls taut and makes a focused effort to keep his angle just where it is, really focusing on the resistance of Yuzuru’s calf pushing into his shoulder. “Wanted to ruin you so bad, Yuzu, so gorgeous, so… baby, yes,  _ yes.” _

He loses his train of thought as Yuzuru slings an arm around his neck, as his eyes go a bit glassy, as he tightens his hold on him as if to lock Javier in place. Yuzuru moans his name, the most incredible sound in the world, back arched elegantly as his cock slips wet against Javier’s hipbone and he spasms, spills, and absolutely milks Javier for all he’s got, eyes lidded and soft as Javier drives roughly into him a few more times to finish.

Yuzuru swings his leg out to let it down, and Javier laughs, letting Yuzuru’s thigh fall into the support of his hand as he wraps his leg cozily about Javier’s waist. He caresses him there as they kiss, mirroring the smile he feels turning Yuzuru’s lips and pulling back to see it for himself. Yuzuru’s eyes are crinkled happily, his hair haloed out around his face. “You ok?” he asks, indicating his leg by tapping him on the thigh.

Yuzuru scrunches his nose up as if in thought. “Well…” he says, wriggling around to signal that Javier should let him up. Javier rolls to the side but, reluctant to lose contact, slips an arm under Yuzuru’s body and simply watches him. Yuzuru slides two fingers through the mess of come on his stomach and, with a smug, shit-eating grin on his face, brings them to Javier’s lips. Javier rolls his eyes at him as flicks his tongue out over his fingertips; maybe  _ kinky _ isn’t the right word for Yuzuru, but there’s something deeply nasty about him that comes roaring out full-force when he’s caught in the right mood, usually when he’s won something. Javier would be more annoyed if it didn’t turn him out past reason that Yuzuru wants him to do this, and he follows up the sampling taste by sliding down to Yuzuru’s stomach to clean up the rest, kitten licks along the ridges of his abdominals as Yuzuru’s muscles shake with comedown.

“That was more like worship talk, not dirty talk,” Yuzuru says after a moment of quiet, his fingers in Javier’s hair, nails scratching soothingly at the back of his head.

Javier glances up from where he’s idly resting his head on his stomach to give him a Look. “You always have immediate critique,” he points out, “can’t we just enjoy the moment?”

“There’s always room for improvement,” Yuzuru argues.

Javier sighs, kissing the hollow of his hipbone. “Does that mean you wanna go again?”

Yuzuru hums. “Not right now. Maybe soon.”

“We have all night.” Javier rolls again to lie beside him, wrapping both his arms around Yuzu’s slight form to kiss him all over again. Yuzuru responds so organically, melding himself to the shape Javier makes with the angles of their hips, twining his legs with Javier’s, hands wandering all over Javier’s back under the sweater that has inexplicably stayed on.

“Javier,” Yuzuru says seriously, when they pull away to breathe. He rests his forehead against Javier’s and looks deep into his eyes, trying to see it all, x-ray into his head somehow. “I can’t believe this is it.”

“It’s not,” Javier insists, naturally, easily. He reaches up and slides his hand beneath the medal, pressing directly against Yuzuru’s heart. “It’s not over.”

He watches Yuzuru’s face, watches the bottom rims of his eyes well over with tiny tears that spill down his sharp cheeks. “But you…. I won’t see you,” he says, shutting his eyes tight to try and drive away the tears. “How am I supposed to train, keep going strong, without...”

“Don’t cry,” Javier says, so quietly, absolutely willing to beg. “Please don’t cry, Yuzuru. You’re gonna make me…” He takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. “Hey,” he says as he gently brushes the tears from the thin skin beneath Yuzuru’s eyes. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. We always do, right? Still my flower, yeah?”

Yuzuru shudders out a breath and squeezes the last few tears out of his eyes. He’s practiced at managing his emotions, all truth told, even if sometimes they do get the better of him. Everyone’s entitled to the occasional overwhelm; it’s something Brian and Tracy have taught them both over the years to never really be embarrassed by.

Yuzuru gives him a smile, weak but genuine, maybe even on its way to happy. “There you are,” Javier says, taking his face in his hands and pressing his lips to his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” Javier says. “Maybe it won’t be just like it has been, but why can’t that be good?”

Yuzuru sighs and tucks his head into Javier’s shoulder. He kisses him soft on the collarbone. “You are right,” he murmurs against his skin. “I have already been through such change. I just… it seems like my entire life, Javi, you’ve been here with me. Even if you weren’t competing against me you were cheering me on.”

“And I still will.” Javier wraps him up tighter, sliding his hand back and forth across Yuzuru’s shoulders. He always responds well to hugs. “God, Yuzuru. You have to believe that I’ll never not be in your corner.”

Yuzuru hums again, little vibrations against Javier’s neck. “As long as you want to do this,” Javier continues, drawing back and catching Yuzuru’s eye, “for as long as you’re out there being who you are. I’ll always be cheering for you.”

“But don’t forget that you did this.” He takes the medal from around Yuzu’s neck, holds it up between their faces. “Twice,” he says with a wink. Yuzuru barks out a laugh, swipes at his eyes. He takes the hunk of gold from Javier, his eyes gleaming, reflecting off the sheen. He touches the ridges on the disc, traces the Olympic rings.

“I like these better than Russia,” Yuzuru says. “To me, they feel like…. what is the word. Peacefulness. Tranquility.”

“You deserve that,” Javier blurts out, without thinking. Yuzuru meets his eyes with gravitas; he doesn’t want to think about all he’s been through this season, but instead of throwing a fit, he accepts it, sighs and puts the medal around Javier’s neck, instead.

He straightens up, sits above him. Looks Javier up and down as he lies there on his back, running his hand back and forth low on Javier’s belly, over the top of his thigh. “It looks almost as good on you,” he says finally, and Javier throws his head back and laughs, open, until Yuzuru kisses him again, kisses him quiet, kisses him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> (did you know denise biellmann had really bad back pain by the end of her competitive career) (layback spin: not even once)


End file.
